


Man of the World

by StarsGarters



Series: Growler [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Digital Art, HYDRA Trash Party, M/M, Rumlow is a dickbag, Shower Sex, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-10 16:16:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2031591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarsGarters/pseuds/StarsGarters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve does what he does best, saving the day and unintentionally fucking up Rumlow's life. Luckily, the Winter Soldier is very good at cleaning up botched missions. And Rumlow has to clean up the former Bucky Barnes...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Man of the World

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Человек бывалый](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7618420) by [Saysly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saysly/pseuds/Saysly)



Brock Rumlow slammed his locker shut and stalked out of the STRIKE locker room. Hardened soldiers flinched from his gaze as he surveyed the hallways, looking for the man who had incurred his wrath. He saw Steve Rogers chatting with a tech, smiling without a care in the world and anger blazed up in his gut. "ROGERS!" Rumlow bellowed. Steve actually flinched at his tone and that made Rumlow feel a little better. 

"Yes, Commander?" 

Rumlow stabbed his finger into Captain America's kevlar armor, right in the middle of the white star. "That was the stupidest, most reckless insubordination I have ever seen in the field!" 

"I sort of have a talent for stupid, reckless insubordination. " As an afterthought, Steve added, "Sir." Steve stared right back into his eyes and showed no signs of remorse. 

"You deliberately ignored a direct order!" 

"I did. I don't leave men behind." 

"I am expendable Captain. If I say, leave me behind, then you DO it." Another finger stab to the chest. 

"You are NOT expendable. Not to me. Not to this team. I will NEVER obey an order to leave _you_ behind." Steve firmly set his jaw.

"You just don't _get_ it. Do _you_?" His voice hitched, Steve looked concerned and confused.

Rumlow was supposed to be left behind to carry out sabotage on a water-treatment plant that would have left half the southern coast of the island nation at the mercy of HYDRA owned corporations. Pierce was going to give him to Von Strucker and goddamn stupid brave Steve Rogers had damned him to it. He turned on his heel with dread clenched around his heart. 

Steve stared at him and watched him walk away, uneasy and disturbed by his leader's slumped shoulders. Rumlow never looked _beaten down_ even while bleeding out from a gut wound.

Automatic doors shut behind Rumlow with a slick pneumatic hiss. Pierce's office was as immaculate as the man's suit. Rumlow stood at attention and awaited Pierce's acknowledgment. It took several minutes for Pierce to do so. Rumlow knew that in itself was a punishment. He wasn't  _worth_ the effort of an immediate response and Rumlow silently absorbed that disdain. 

Without looking up from his tablet, Alexander Pierce the Secretary of Defense of the United States of America, remarked in a blase tone, "You're back awfully soon, Commander. I trust you have a compelling reason for doing so." 

Rumlow said in a firm voice that didn't betray how his guts were churning with fear, "The sabotage mission was a failure Sir."

"And why is that?" A long elegant finger tapped the tablet screen.

"Captain Rogers disobeyed a direct order and extracted me before I could complete the mission objective, Sir."

"Did he?" Pierce set down the tablet and leaned back in his chair. "Now how did he manage to do that?" Pierce always asked leading questions to draw out more information from people uncomfortable with his silence. Rumlow had absorbed this tactic and used it to great effect late in the night when Steve was feeling chatty. 

"He..." Rumlow spit out the humiliating words. "He jumped out of the transport, evaded enemy fire and... _picked me up_ , slung me over his shoulder and jumped 30 feet back onto the transport, Sir." Rumlow hadn't even had the chance to struggle against Steve's iron grip, he'd felt like a helpless child swinging through the air as Steve held onto the rope ladder dangling from the transport. Rumlow watched the jungle shrink beneath him, as they gained altitude and fought back the urge to stab his tactical knife into Rogers' unsuspecting neck again and again. 

"He just picked you up?"

"Like a sack of potatoes, Sir." That's what Rollins had called it, then the tall man had shrunk back against the locker room wall at the murderous look in Rumlow's eyes. At least no one else on STRIKE was aware of the failed mission, it had been a special op commissioned for Brock only. The failure was all his and so were the consequences. 

Pierce _laughed_. Rumlow gritted his teeth. "Now why would Captain Rogers do that?"

"He said that he never leaves a man behind, Sir."

"Well history tells us that's complete bullshit." Pierce finally stood up and walked over to his subordinate. He sniffed and wrinkled his nose at Rumlow's post-mission odor of sweat, oil and foreign soil.

"It's possible, Sir, that my mission to seduce and coerce the target has succeeded too well, compromising the primary objective." He should have just killed Rogers, murdered him in his sleep with one quick slice across the throat. Super-soldier or not, Steve always slept soundly after a good hard fucking. Sometimes in the cover of night, Rumlow watched Steve sleep and thought about all the different ways he could end the Avenger's life and how he would be rewarded. _The Man Who Killed Captain America_ , now _that_ was a legacy. Something to merit an exhibit at the Smithsonian. It would be so _easy_. 

Rumlow thought about how the SHIELD staff had listened raptly to Captain America speak to them at the gala, how quickly he had roused their patriotism and fire. Rogers was fucking  _dangerous_  to the ultimate goal of HYDRA world domination. "Perhaps he should be eliminated. Permanently, Sir."

"Eliminating Captain Rogers isn't an option. _Yet_. Project Insight will take care of all these _loose ends."_ Pierce brushed an errant piece of jungle shrubbery off of Rumlow's shoulder. "You initiated this little venture, but I doubt you'd thought about where your dick could possibly lead you. I'd always thought of you as more of a blunt instrument, less of a subtle knife, Commander. You show potential." Rumlow failed to suppress the swelling of hope and gratitude from showing on his face. Another light touch on the skin just above Rumlow's shirt collar, over his rapidly pulsing artery. But before Rumlow could lean into that touch, before he could process that fleeting intimacy, Pierce seized him about the throat and squeezed his gullet hard.

"You've made Captain America, the nemesis of everything we've worked so hard to achieve, fall in _love_ with you. And because of _that_ I simply cannot have you disappear or _volunteer_ you for service with Baron Von Strucker. You are aware that that is usually the price for a failure of this magnitude. Once more, Captain Rogers has saved your life." Pierce released him.

Brock's eyes watered profusely and he drew a ragged breath.  "Thank you Sir." He whispered out, barely able to form words. 

"Oh this isn't _mercy_ , Commander. I just can't have a love-sick superhuman pining for you. You keep him close to you. Make him feel that you're the only person on this Earth that he can truly trust. Then, when I tell you to,  _tear him down."_  

Pierce lifted Rumlow's chin up with a single finger, then held Brock's face cupped in his hands. "Funny, I never considered you for a honeypot. Captain Rogers certainly has a type, doesn't he? Brunette with wounded eyes." Pierce traced the tear streaks on Rumlow's face with his thumbs with a hard, grim smile. Then he leaned up again his desk, crossing his arms. 

Rumlow dropped to his knees in utter submission in front of his HYDRA leader. He looked at the floor and awaited either the stinging slap of a backhand across his face or the sound of a zipper that usually led to being choked on Pierce's cock.

Sex and violence were all twisted up in Rumlow's gut, they always had been. Made it hard to keep a girlfriend. Men could give and take the infliction of pain better, they were less likely to whine or complain about a few errant bruises. 

He should hate this, he should resent the humiliation and the pain, but he didn't. One day, he'd prove that he was the best soldier, the best HYDRA agent to Pierce. Rumlow licked his lips and waited. He could take it, he could take anything Pierce wanted to give him. 

Pierce idly kicked at him with the side of his foot like a dog. The kick stung more than a fist to the gut.

"Captain Rogers is waiting for you out in the hallway. He's literally twiddling his thumbs. Now get up and go tell your new boyfriend that you forgive him. Then go tend the Asset. He'll be back from completing your botched mission. At least I can count on him to do what needs to be done without having to fuck anyone." 

Rumlow rose from his knees, saluted and turned on his heel, inwardly seething at Pierce's insult. Rogers was indeed leaning against the wall opposite Pierce's office door, his brows knitted with concern. "Brock-- Commander..." He began, but Rumlow cut him off with an curt gesture. 

"Shut it! We need to make one thing clear, when we are in the field you follow  _my_ orders without question. I cannot have insubordination on my STRIKE team, you'll get someone killed. Do you understand me, Captain? If you are on STRIKE then you follow the chain of command." Rumlow huffed out his breath, trying to control his anger. He had very little to call his own. Command of STRIKE was his life and no one was going to subvert that.  

"Understood." Steve acquiesced, but with no conviction or truth. "So, are _we done_ here?" It was a loaded question.

Rumlow knew Pierce was watching and so far this didn't look like a make up session. He let his voice waver and slumped his shoulders, he allowed himself to look as weary as he felt. Stripped of his angry bravado, Rumlow looked up at Steve and quietly stated, "I had to beg to keep you on the team, Steve." He wiped at his smudged face and ran his hand through his hair. "I told them that if they took you off STRIKE, that I'd resign. Fucking quit right there on the spot. My guys need you. Fuck it,  _I need you_."

"Brock--" Steve stammered, "I didn't mean--" But Rumlow didn't let him finish the thought. He seized Steve by double-fisting his tactical gear and kissed him as hard as he could. As if his life depended on it. And it did.

He whispered in Steve's ear, his voice harsh from Pierce's manhandling, "Next time, warn me! I nearly pissed myself on that ladder! A man has his pride, you know." 

"Are we, are we on for tonight? I mean, I'd understand if you said no--" Steve swallowed, flushed red and breathless from the kiss. 

Rumlow stole another kiss, not caring who was watching. If he was going to have to continue this farce, then he was going to enjoy every fucking moment of pleasure he could get.  "You talk too much Rogers. _Of course_ , we're still on. I wanna take some of this frustration out on your lily-white ass. If you're up for that..." Heavy-lidded, Rumlow ran his fingers over the rim of Steve's ear and enjoyed the involuntary shiver it evoked.

See that Pierce? You're not the only man who can fuck with a guy's head, Rumlow thought. "I have to take care of some paperwork, I'll see you tonight." Rumlow tossed Steve his house keys. "Your turn to cook. Nothing boiled though, for the love of God!"

Steve snagged the keys out of the air and smiled. He watched as Rumlow sauntered off and started whistling while planning the dinner menu in his head. 

- 

Rumlow glared at the tech who opened the door for him at the hidden lair. "Is the Asset back?" 

"Yes sir. He is ready for his debriefing. Shall I perform the usual routine? Lock the doors? Play a little mood music?" The tech smirked, it wasn't like all of them hadn't taken some liberties with the Asset from time to time. Not with those pretty lips.

"You're gonna watch what you say or I'll make you swallow some teeth. You got me?" Rumlow didn't have time to deal with pathetic underlings. "Pierce ordered this. Do you wanna talk to Pierce? Or should I see if the Baron needs some new staffing?"

"No sir!" The tech sniveled. Not HYDRA material at all, Rumlow thought. They needed strong, decisive men with unwavering moral compasses not mewling cowards. The automatic doors hissed open and Rumlow strode through them. The doors shut behind him and Rumlow engaged the lock, overriding the security cam. 

The unarmed Asset sat on his throne, the old Memory-Masher the techs called it, awaiting orders. Always awaiting orders. He had no other purpose in life. Rumlow stared at the former James "Bucky" Barnes and a cruel smile curled over his lips. A puppet, such a pretty puppet just waiting for Rumlow to pull his strings.

"Report!" Rumlow barked. It didn't matter what Rumlow called him. The Asset, the Winter Soldier, ghost... he was a tool, a weapon. Nothing else. But he had something that Rumlow needed, something that the old Memory-Masher couldn't beat out of his brain. 

"The bomb was detonated at the water treatment plant. No casualties. No witnesses." Rumlow snorted, a quick huff through his nostrils and narrowed his eyes in irritated envy. 

"Another success. Another perfect fucking score. Thanks for making me look like a schlub. Really appreciate that, asshole." The soldier didn't react to the words, he was merely stating facts. Rumlow's emotional outburst meant nothing to the former shell of a man. He had no ego to poke, no sense of self to speak of. It was like shouting obscenities at a cat. He would react to pain, but only in a reflexive way. Sometimes Rumlow thought about beating him bloody, but it was such an empty gesture that Rumlow's dick didn't even twitch. 

"I should say 'Hail HYDRA' and shove you back in the fucking freezer, but you've been such a _good_ soldier. Come on, let's get you cleaned up." Rumlow clapped him on the non-metal shoulder and guided him to the shower stall. "We're both really ripe." Rumlow's touch sparked a little hint of what the man had formerly been, if only in the way he cocked his head to the side.

Muscle memory, that's what Rumlow was exploiting. Gestures and touches, remains of that laughing man memorialized in the Smithsonian exhibit looping over and over again while Steve Rogers writhed in pleasure against the display. Rumlow chuckled as he unlaced his boots. That still amused him.

"Strip. Unless you want to get hosed off in your fatigues." What the Asset wanted didn't matter, but the illusion of a choice was important. Angry red weals stretched up his pale back, scratches that would quickly fade. "Did you get attacked by kittens, kid? Even with how fast you heal, this shit can get infected." Rumlow cracked the aid kit and soaked a gauze pad with alcohol. Careful daubs, tracing the red lines, Rumlow glided the pad over the Asset's muscles enjoying the view. 

"Man, what I wouldn't give to have just a little bit, just a tiny bit of whatever made you like this. But I was born too late. They don't look for heroes now, they don't respect soldiers like they did in your day." Rumlow clucked his tongue and turned on the shower spout, adjusting the temperature. "Hop on in, the water's fine." 

Rumlow had worked hard to be the best thing in the Asset's miserable life. He was the reward, the carrot after a successful mission. Pierce was the fist, the punishment for a failure. There hadn't been any failures that Rumlow was aware of. Rumlow's lips quirked. Pierce didn't even have to get his suit dirty. The _things_ that Brock had to do for the good of his country. 

He looked back at Rumlow with soap suds in his hair and hope flickering in his eyes. "Aw what the hell." Rumlow stripped off his clothing, kicking it to the side with his boots. He then stepped in to the shower spray and scrubbed his face. "I smelled like a third-world nation."

Rumlow combed his fingers through the Asset's hair and crooned, "You did good, kid. You did good. We're very pleased with you." The way he leaned into Rumlow's hands was touchingly pathetic, as was his obvious arousal. These relics of the good old days had no problems getting it up. Their recovery time was a bit intimidating, Rumlow reluctantly admitted.

"What do _you_ want to do, kid? _Show me_." A question, followed by a command. The former Mr. Barnes leaned up against Rumlow and ran his hand down the inside of Rumlow's wrist, interlacing their fingers. Rumlow smiled like one of the piranhas in his tank and let the Asset take the lead. Soft pliant lips hungry for affection, for comfort. 

Just another mission, another information recovery job. More pleasurable than most, Rumlow mused, thrusting his hips. The Asset keened at the moment of orgasm. Rumlow would have to remember to do _that_ the next time Steve was buried balls deep within him. Then all coherent thought scrambled in his brain and Rumlow dug his fingers into the Asset's hips, then shuddered through his orgasm.

The shower rinsed away all traces of their tryst and Rumlow wrapped a scratchy white towel around his charge's head, drying off his long black hair. His cheeks were flushed and Rumlow let the Winter Soldier embrace him, the shiny metal arm warmed to nearly body temperature. 

It was like having a pet. Rumlow had always wanted a loyal dog. 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I could tell you about my life  
> And keep you amused I'm sure  
> About all the times I've cried  
> And how I don't want to be sad anymore  
> And how I wish I was in love
> 
> Lyrics Copyright Fleetwood Mac


End file.
